


Air

by vat7k



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Depression, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, No comfort we die like men, Panic Attack, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24158980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vat7k/pseuds/vat7k
Summary: oops i didn't proof read this
Kudos: 1





	Air

**Author's Note:**

> oops i didn't proof read this

You sigh as Y and the others finally retreat to do their own things instead of pestering you to come out of your room. You feel the sinking hole of depression fill your chest again as you stand up, making your way to your drawer. You yank it out and reach for the blade buried underneath all the notebooks and clothes you have in there.

You pull down your sleeve and look at all the old whitened scars. Who gives a shit about being six months clean. You need control and you need it now. You couldn’t control the people in your life, you couldn’t control the paparazzi, and you couldn’t control your depression. But you could control the pain. That’s all you needed, a little self-punishment for being so stupid and pathetic.

Your breathing picks up.

You need this because everyone’s gonna leave you and it’s going to be your own fault because you ignore them. If you keep ignoring them Y is going to give up. Everyone else has. They don’t bother you because they think you’re a lost cause and they’re probably right.

Your breathing gets even faster.

What are you going to do when Y leaves you, dumbass? You can’t stop the thoughts. You can’t live without her but you push her away and ignore her. It’s only a matter of time until you disappoint her and she leaves you too. What are you going to do? You gonna kill yourself like some overreactive prick, aren’t you? What a fucking baby,

You can’t breathe, you’re practically panting at this point. You hadn’t even realized you dropped the blade in your hand. You back yourself into the wall and sink to the floor. You cross your arms and grip them hard leaving angry red crescent marks in your skin. You don’t even notice you’re crying as you breathe in short-lived gasps. You can’t even control your own breathing. You just want everything to stop. Why isn’t it stopping? Why are you always in pain? Why do you always worry about the “what if”s? Why do you hate yourself for living? You can’t stand it. SHUT UP.

As soon as it began it’s suddenly stopped. Your breathing slowly again and your cheeks are wet from when you were crying. You look around the dim room and focus on small things like your clock or the pencil sitting on your dresser. You don’t feel good but you don’t feel completely bad either. You’re just glad you could get some air.


End file.
